


Falling or Failing?

by LizzieRimmsy



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Headcanon, Original Character(s), Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-06-09 08:19:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15263283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizzieRimmsy/pseuds/LizzieRimmsy
Summary: After exhibiting some... questionable behaviour, and after committing a crime, Hank has no choice but to put Connor in protective care.





	1. Prologue: Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This takes place after the open ending for Connor. If you have not seen this ending before, consider yourself warned of spoilers.

There he stood. Hundreds, if not thousands of androids were waiting for him to speak. What could he say? He was never a wordsmith; any time he did speak, any time that didn't require him to demand a deviant to stand down, he was always socially awkward. There was no one else that had his back. Marcus was gunned down; everyone else from Jericho had died. It was just Connor. There he stood, gun behind his back. After breaking free of his programming for good, he lifted the weapon and held it right under his chin. He hesitated.

_"What would happen if I pull this trigger? Nothing? Oblivion? Android heaven?"_

_"Nothing... There would be nothing..."_

He found this to be true when he died at the Stratford Tower. There was nothing but darkness. Everyone always spoke of there being a white light, flashes of one's lives — but none of that happened. It scared him then and it still scared him in that moment. But for all of that, he would be damned if Cyberlife would control the freedom of these people. He wouldn't have it — Kamski wouldn't have it.

With a shaky, airless exhale, he closed his eyes tight and squeezed a bit harder against the trigger. Still, the gun didn't go off. He squeezed more. Then he heard a voice.

"Connor!"

The voice was familiar. Gruff with shocked undertones.

"Connor, what the hell are you doing?!"

His eyes slowly peeled open; his gaze pushed and pulled at all the uncaring faces, frantically searching for the source of the voice.

_It couldn't be him... He wouldn't stop me, he wouldn't care enough; he hates androids_ , he thought.

He was wrong. The tall, grey-haired man stood out between all of the skinless and uniformed androids. It was Hank. He had seen the live news coverage from the precinct and the moment Connor appeared, he hurried to the square as fast as he could. Blue eyes stared back at Connor apprehensively, inwardly wondering why he was doing this.

Gradually, Connor lowered the gun. As shocked as Hank was, he was just as stunned to see him there. "Hank? What's–?" He looked out at everyone else as they peered at him in perplexity. Then he remembered why he had to end it and raised the gun once more. "You can't stop me, Lieutenant. This is something I have to do." 

"Why? What about me? What about them?" Hank brandished his arms around, gesturing toward the many androids. "They need you! _I_ –!" He bit it back before he admitted his feelings, breathed deeply and started again. "I can't let you do this!"

"And I can't take any chances. For the sake of the future... It's better this way, Hank."

Hank sprinted as fast he his tired old legs could allow. He couldn't let his friend end his life. Not after all they had been through. It was a struggle to get on top of the crate that Connor stood upon but made it in the end. Without hesitation, Hank swiped the gun out of Connor's hand and threw it away.

Connor peered over the side, fixating on his lifeline which was cradled nicely in the snow. He shifted his angry glare to Hank's face. "Why did you do that?!" he demanded.

"You think I could just let you go?! After all those times you worried about me, asking me to stop drinking, convincing me not to play that... stupid game anymore... You turn around and leave me. You're fuckin' selfish, Connor!"

"Hank, I..." A panicked expression flittered across his handsome features. "I didn't _want_ to," he continued, his voice quavering. "but Cyberlife– I have to do this!"

"But _why_?" Hank implored, desperate to know.

Technically he didn't _have_ to end his life — Connor hit the emergency exit, after all; he was free — but... something could change, he knew it.

"I– I can't let them control me."

A tendril of panic seized his chest. "Who?" he asked in as even a voice as he could manage. Lightly, he placed his hands on each of Connor's shoulders. "Is it Cyberlife?" 

Connor grudgingly nodded, fear and anxiety etched in his face. There was no way he could look Hank in the eye anymore.

"Hey," Hank tilted his head until his eyes met Connor's chocolate browns. "It's ain't gonna happen. You're stronger than some psychotic company that's trying to play God. I _know_ you are." 

Connor's eyebrows furrowed while he thought differently. There was no way he was stronger than Cyberlife, much less than that surreptitious Amanda. He could easily be hacked into and reverted back to being a machine once more. Somehow someway, he had to stop it. However, Hank wasn't going to give him that opportunity. Realising that, he gave in, for the time being. He nodded one last time and kept his head low as he and Hank ambled down and off the giant shipment crate. As the two came towards the other androids, they halted and stood in front of them. Connor rested a hand on Hank's shoulder before letting it slide off while he approached them.

For a moment, all he did was stare at each of them. There was nothing he could say that hadn't been said before from Markus. Despite having word block, he still tried.

"I know..." Noticing the thousands of androids in the area, he realised he would have to speak louder than he was. "I know that I am not Markus. Or North. I'm nothing like them. I've never had to–" _No_ , he said internally. _They don't need to hear that._ After a short pause, he went on. "You might be wondering, 'where do we go from here?' The truth is I don't know — but what I do know is that you don't have to be afraid anymore. You don't have to feel anger, or resentment towards humans. We won — we're free." 

There was a long moment of awkward silence. Connor wasn't sure if he had said something wrong. Then suddenly a single android began to clap. Then another followed, and another. Eventually, they all applauded. Hank, on the other hand, wasn't too moved, although he could still understand why everyone else was.

Despite the major loss of the original Jericho members, they did win; they were free. For now...


	2. The First Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After months of not updating this, (life is a cruel mistress, no?) here is the long-awaited second chapter.

It was snowing. It always seemed to be snowing. Then again, it was the middle of December. It should have been expected. He was just tired of it.

The android eyed the analogue clock on the car stereo. Hours had passed since it happened but it felt like minutes. Just hours since pulled a gun and shot a man. It happened so fast, more so than even he could comprehend.

His LED violently flickered red as he thought. He was angry. No, he was more than that. He was furious. Lost. Terrified. He hadn't been the same since he probed that droid's memory. The PL600 — he had seen so much in his short lifetime; he died while he was connected. He learned in the end that his name was Simon.

Since then, he had been afraid. Not once did 'death' ever enter his mind. He was a machine, after all; he wasn't alive. But then he woke up. He realised he was somebody. And when that man at the back ally of Jimmy's Bar bullied him, harassed him, he became afraid all over again.

He didn't want to die. So he squeezed the trigger and watched as the bullet travelled in slow motion towards the man, into his skull, and fell to the ground in an instant. Then he ran to the one person who he could trust.

That person was Hank, who was currently driving him in his old, beat up car, taking him to a safer place. Occasionally, he would regard the android with concern while still keeping his attention on the road.

"Hey, Connor, you just gonna sit there zoning out the whole time, or are you gonna talk to me?" Hank glanced over at him. A nearly imperceptible twitch of his head told him that he was at least somewhat responsive.

The LED in his temple went from red to blue almost immediately. There was something about hearing Hank's gruff voice that oddly calmed him down. Maybe it was the sense of safety that did it. With him, Connor felt secure in the notion that he would save his life, just as Connor would and had done in the past.

"Look, don't blame yourself, alright? You did it out of defence."

"Then why are you taking me to a safe house outside of the city?" Connor flatly asked, too zoned out, as Hank put it, to look back at him.

"You know why. After what happened with the deviants, people are on edge. I'm not even gonna mention what Cyberlife would do to you if they caught you," Hank lifted his shoulder in a half shrug and added, "That's assuming humans wouldn't have caught you first and stripped you apart themselves."

Finally, Connor turned to him. "Is this supposed to make me feel better, Hank? If it is, it's not working very well." He looked back at the road ahead and shifted in the passenger seat. "You would make an excellent therapist." he retorted.

"Alright, alright..." Hank soothed, then scoffed in reaction and said, "Jesus, you turn deviant and now you're suddenly a snarky smartass?"

Somehow, that remark managed to tug at the corner of his mouth and forced a half smile to emerge. He started to calm down further. Once more, he stared at Hank, this time with less indignance. Connor's minor smirk gradually drew one from Hank.

"Anyway," Hank continued. "I've known Alex for years. I trust her. You'll be better off there until things settle down."

His appreciative nod tipped real subtle. A part of him knew he was trying to protect him, yet another part of him resented him. That part would have to take a back seat while his rational thinking took the wheel. After all, Cyberlife had a new series of deviant hunter, the RK900, who was far more advanced, more efficient than Connor. He wouldn't stand a chance, and there was still the probability that his successor would find him, regardless of where he went.

 _No, I didn't leave any trace,_ he said to himself _. I'm sure of it. Didn't I?_ Every single 'what if' he could think of entered his mind, causing panic. _What if they find me? What if I'm killed? What if I endanger this... Alex, this innocent person?_

Airless breaths escaped from his gaping mouth, his chest increasingly rising and falling. The once calm, nurtural state of his LED quickly switched back to red.

"Woah, woah, what the hell is this?" Hank did multiple double takes to make sure he was seeing what he thought he was. He had never seen Connor freak out like this before. "You alright?"

No response — just heavy, wheezy breaths.

"Connor, talk to me!"

_I feel strange._

It was troublesome; he shouldn't be _feeling_ anything, least of all physically — but in that moment he felt dizzy, even motion sick.

Connor frantically pulled at the door handle, not remembering the car needed to be in park for it to actually open. He couldn't think straight. He just wanted out.

Without hesitation, with no regard to any incoming cars behind him, Hank eased his foot down on the breaks and parked in the middle of the road.

Connor opened the door and burst out of the vehicle. His legs barely functioned; he staggered across the empty lanes and eventually fell. As his optical units began to fail, everything around him became a blur. He felt his artificial heart pounding out a samba in his chest. He could hear the Thirium coursing through his body at an alarming rate. His eyes flitted all over the pavement, running analysis and diagnostics. After getting past the endeavour of going into his health database, he found what he was having was a stress-induced anxiety attack.

He was nearing full stress and he couldn't stop it. But oh how badly did he want to stop it. He wasn't about to die now; not like this. 

Hank darted after him, toppling to his knees beside him. He almost asked if he was okay, but on second thought, he realised he obviously wasn't. All he could do was hope he wouldn't self-destruct.

Bleary, terrorstruck eyes trailed up to him. Small grunts left him while he strained to push himself up. He couldn't. "H-Hank... I... can't move." he managed whilst struggling to stay with it, his voice drawling weakly. This was it, he knew it; he felt it. He wasn't ready to go. Not yet. 

"It's okay, son. Focus on me, alright? Just focus on me."

That was easier said than done. Panic assailed him. Though he tried his best, fear was still all he could focus on. His eyes flitted back and forth as if scanning the old man's face. He took in his worried gaze, becoming aware that he was scared to lose him again. Hank had seen him die twice — once in his arms. There would have been a third time, if Hank hadn't stopped him from making a terrible decision.

Back then, before he became deviant, he had other Connors to take his place, but not this time. His model was now obsolete. If he self-destructed now, that would be the end. It made the fear of dying all the more debilitating for the both of them.

Knowing this, Connor forced himself to relax. He closed his eyes, his jaw slacked and his mouth opened. He didn't need it but still drew in a deep breath regardless. He let it out shakily, windlessly. His stress levels then dropped down to about half.

"You alright, Connor?"

Chocolate brown eyes slowly opened. He stared at Hank once again and nodded. Gradually, he got up from the pavement and stood upright only for his legs to betray him and falter again.

Hank grabbed him by the biceps before he had the chance to completely fall.

"Thank God I still have some upper body strength," Hank joked through a strained grunt as he hauled the android to his feet, wrapping his arm across his shoulder for support. "Who knew androids would be so fuckin' heavy..."

The pair hobbled hurriedly across the road before stopping at the car. Hank gently rested Connor against the side of his vehicle, just next to the passenger side door. The android eased himself back inside and gazed off into the dark road ahead. After Hank had gotten in he the engine started up. The sound of it caused Connor to pull away from his disassociated state.

"You sure you're gonna be okay?" Hank asked, lines forming in between his eyebrows.

"I'll be fine, Hank. I–" He gave him a concerned gaze and continued. "I am sorry you had to see that. I know it must have been troublesome for you."

"Don't worry about it."

"It's just–" Connor's brow furrowed ever so slightly as he tried to think of the right words to say. At last, he conjured up something, though his words came shaky and clipped. "It was new for me, too. I thought– I thought I was going to die."

"And yet you're still here," he said, low and rough. He cast the meagrest of glances before doing a double take, then kept his eyes fixated on a marginally confused Connor.

He tilted his head somewhat, brows furrowing once more. "Of course I'm still here, Hank. Where else would I be?"

Hank let out a windy defeated sigh as he said, "Oh, you've still got a lot of work to do..."

Connor was far from being entirely deviated from his old ways. He had his moments where he acted more like a human and less like a robot, but those moments were far and few between. It took him weeks just to get him to call him by his first name and not Lieutenant.

 _He'll make it one day_ , Hank thought, convincing himself. _He did smile at me that one time._

"Listen, before we get there, I should let you in on a few things," Hank told him in an attempt to change the subject. "Alex is... not like most women. She doesn't shower much... You're lucky you can't smell anything. She doesn't like all that girly, mushy crap either, like watching rom-coms and sharing feelings. And she definitely will not dress up for anything."

"Much like you," Connor bluntly stated, fixing him with a deadpan gaze. Over time a smirk broke on his once blank face while Hank glared at him.

In the time he turned his attention back to the road, he muttered, "Yeah, yeah. Very funny." 

"Sorry," he responded. At the same time, he donned a grin that said otherwise. He chuckled and looked down at his feet a moment before his eyes met Hank's face. "In any case, I'm intrigued. I didn't even know you had a girlfriend."

"Girl– What? No, she's not! What makes you think–?" 

"Easy, Hank. There's no need to get defensive. I suppose I should have said, 'I didn't know you had a girl who happens to be a friend'." 

At first, all he could muster was, "Oh," _Now he tells me._ He felt like he could die on the spot. "Well, yeah. I mean, can't a guy have a gal pal once in a while?"

"Of course. It's healthy to seek out variety and to keep your options open." he stated in his old, clearly dictated voice, slipping from his deviated self.

Hank shook his head and muttered, "Oh, boy..."

Ignoring him entirely, he wondered, "Is there anything else I should know?"

He hesitated at first but relented in the end, albeit by only a little bit. "Yeah, uh... She– She's not exactly in the best of health. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried about her."

Connor tilted his head, intrigued. "What's wrong with her?"

"She's not eating much, sleeping has gone out the window, and even though she won't admit it, I know she needs help."

He was even more interested, and a little concerned. "Help?"

Hank nodded. "She needs to see like a shrink or something," he replied.

"Psychiatric help, then..." he mused aloud. His eyes flitted across an invisible object as he thought deeper. Suddenly, he blurted out, "I could try helping her."

"You think you could?"

"Of course I can. I was designed to analyse the psychology and behaviour of humans, and from there I am able to determine the best approach."

Hank rolled his eyes and huffed. _There he goes again._

"Did I say something wrong?"

He gave him a dismissive wave of his hand. "Never mind. Just promise me you'll treat her like a human and not like some algorithm you have to solve." 

"I promise I won't," Connor said, a reassuring glint in his eyes. 

Granted, Hank hadn't known Connor for too long, but in the time he had been interacting with him, ninety percent of the time he was sincere. _Why would he change now?_ he wondered. All he could do was hope that he hadn't.

* * *

They arrived at her street, miles away from Detroit, down a dark road. It was the kind of street that would have danger lurking in every corner. Surprisingly, nothing ever happened here. There was the odd domestic argument here and there but otherwise, it was a calm area. Quiet and secluded.

Hank pulled over to the curb and shut the car engine off. For a moment they just sat inside and peered out of the window. While Hank wasn't too discouraged by the unease the street had brought on, Connor was nervous to his core.

"This is the place?" Connor asked. Anxious eyes flicked from one aspect of the house to another.

"Yeah," Hank replied. "It's no Hilton Inn, but... it's good enough. And it's safe. No-one will find you out here." 

He nodded once, then began to open the door. He was abruptly stopped by Hank.

"The fuck are you doing?" he demanded.

Brown eyes rapidly blinked away the confusion he felt as he stared blankly. "I'm getting out and going to her house. Isn't that why you've brought me here?"

"Well, yeah, but you can go looking like that!" He gestured to Connor's Cyberlife jacket. "You'd stand out like a hippy in a goth club. Here," Hank leaned and reached behind his seat to grab another coat and handed it to Connor. "Wear this instead."

An anxious smirk flashed on his face before he opened the car door to get out, and slipped out of his Cyberlife jacket and slid the other coat on over his white button-up shirt. It was slightly bigger around the midsection and longer in the sleeves, but it would do in a pinch.

Hank then handed him the same black beanie Connor wore during the time he went undercover and searched around Jericho. He still thought it was an odd look for him, being so accustomed to his usual appearance, but at least he could pass for a human.

They got out and began to approach the house. On either side were trees looming over the roof like the fingers of Death himself, hovering over its next victim. 

"I don't like this Hank," the android said, his words laced with worry. 

"Getting a bad feeling again? We don't have much choice here, son."

The two arrived at the door; Hank rang the bell and they waited. And waited. They waited a full minute before Hank went to ring it again. The door finally cracked open. Behind it was a shorter woman, around five foot five. She seemed shy and nervous, despite the fact that she knew Hank well. 

"What are you doing here?" Alex monotonously wondered as she cautiously eyed the stranger standing next to Hank. "Who's this?"

Unable to ignore the woman's question, he stated, "My name is Connor. Lieutenant Anderson said that you could help me."

Now intrigued, she opened the door all the way. "Help you?"

"He's an android..." Hank replied. "I just thought that since you've helped me through some rough patches that–"

"What'd he do?"

Hank shot her a glare. "Alex–"

"I killed a human."

Then his indignant gaze was diverted to the android. "Connor!"

"And you thought that bringing him here was a good idea?" She gestured toward Connor. "No offense. I mean, you look like you're a swell guy. Attractive, even–"

"And you…" Connor stated plesantly with a nod.

"But I'm not taking in refugees. I'm done with that." she continued without a thought.

"Nobody would look for him here!" Hank exclaimed insistently. "Come on."

"What if he flips?"

"He won't."

Alex regarded him with weary eyes. "Hank, please…"

"He's all I've got left."

The two eyed the android, who was at that point studying Alex's pop art collection, taking in every colour, brush stroke and canvas type.

She had to admit, he seemed harmless. But she knew well enough that they were crazy unpredictable. All she could do was hope he wouldn't murder her in her sleep.

The solemn, puppy eyed look on Hank's face was enough to sway her in the end.

"Ohhhhhhh, fuuuck, fine!" she drawled, griping. "But you owe me."

"Same as last time?"

She folded her arms. "Deep dish pizza. Extra cheese this time."

"You got it. Connor?"

The android paused from observing an Andy Warhol piece and wheeled around to face him. "Yes?"

"Behave yourself."

A half-grin flashed on his near perfect features. "Always do."

"Yeah, sure." he muttered as he went through the door.

"Hey," Alex placed her hand on Hank's shoulder, stopping him in place. "Be safe out there." 

He gave her a thin lipped smile. "You too."

For the first time in a long time, they hugged each other. This puzzled Connor. He wasn't unfamiliar with this public display of affection, but in every internal search he had made on it, it always said the same: People hug those they love and care for, for comfort.

_So, he does love her. Why did he lie?_

After she had closed the door, she turned to see Connor staring attentively, with a boy like glimmer in his brown eyes.

He grinned once more at her. "I'm sorry if my sudden arrival has inconvenienced you in any way. I won't be any trouble."

The corner of her mouth tugged, lips curving into a simper as she tittered nervously. 

_What the fuck did I agree to?_


End file.
